the quaint little shop
by quillquate
Summary: The boy narrows his eyes which suddenly seem a bit orange. A trick of light, you think reasonably. But the boy just stares at you like he knows that you know that you're lying to him and most of all, yourself.


You are an old, old man, with bright memories and a faded heart. Your bones creak and groan as you lean back in your rocking chair, reminiscing about the days you were young and in love, the days when you thought you had forever. Placing the open newspaper to the side, you gaze at the blue, blue sea. The loud sound of waves roaring and the shrieking of children filter in from the open window. You soak in the atmosphere that you're excluded of for a few moments before getting up to start the day.

You own a quaint little shop. It has been passed down ever since your great-grandfather had dug his roots in right by the beach. It's full of interesting trinkets; from pure white shells to a peeler specially made for pineapples, one could be lost in its shelves forever. They would wander around the shop, not knowing how much time had passed until the bell tolls. Then, they would look up in surprise, glance at their watch, and run out with rushed apologies. They never actually buy anything, you note. They just look around with curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

Today, you sit behind the counter like you have been for many, many years. You don't expect any customers because it's a national holiday. It's February 14th. Valentine's Day. A day where couples in love come together to bask in the warmth of each other. _When was the last time I had someone dear to me?_ you think with a tinge of sorrow. You are too old for this world, everyone has moved on. You are well past your eightieth year; you are eighty-five years old. Practically ancient in the eyes of youngsters. You chuckle to yourself.

Suddenly, the bell rings cheerily as the door swings open. A brunet boy who looks like he still has both feet in childhood walks in. He mumbles a greeting when he notices you. "Welcome," you say. "Is there anything you're looking for?"

The boy says, "I want to get something for one of my Guar- friends. I mean friends. It's my friend's birthday and I wanted to get him something nice. He's just a little kid, but he's gone through so much for me and-" He stops talking.

"Look around, there are plenty of things to see." You gesture around the shop with a wave of your arm, not wanting to push for answers. The boy's eyes widen as if seeing for the first time what the shelves held. A spark of childish delight sparks in his eyes as he handles a beautifully painted jack-in-the-box. He hums along as he turns the wheel and laughs when a clown pops out.

And so like this, the boy flits around from shelf to shelf. You manage to hear him muttering things under his breath as he sifts through different objects. The boy looks up and asks, "Aren't you lonely, all by yourself?"

"No, no, not at all," you say a bit too quickly, slightly taken aback by the sudden question. The boy narrows his eyes which suddenly seem a bit orange. A trick of light, you think reasonably. But the boy just stares at you like he knows that you know that you're lying to him and most of all, yourself. Thankfully, the boy drops the topic and resumes going through your goods.

"If you're looking for gifts," you begin, "then why not get some candy? Children these days love food, do they not?"

"Maybe Lambo…" the boy says thoughtfully. He seems to think about something for a few seconds before asking, "What about stuffed animals?"

"Oh, aiming for a younger audience? Check the lower shelves in the corner - no, not that one, the upper right. Yes, right there!" You get up from your chair and walk (more like hobble) over to what you affectionately dub "The Sky Corner." That particular corner has shelves painted with white blobs and blue dashes and a little sun peeking out from a cloud. There are plushies and stuffed bears with smiling faces beaming up at you and you smile back despite the fact that they're inanimate objects. The boy leans over and picks up a cow with large, button eyes. Humming, he squeezes it tight. It lets out a long 'mooo.'

"Ah, that," you say from behind. The boy turns to look at you as you continue, "Quite an old specimen, that one. Been in here for at least three decades. It might be a good idea to give it a whirl in the washing machine before giving it to someone, hm?"

"Probably," the boy replies noncommittally.

"So, what's your name, lad?" you ask.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi."

"Foreign?"

"I was born in Japan, but, um, a family situation came up so I had to come to America." Tsunayoshi focuses his attention back on the cow and says, "I think I'll buy this. Maybe… Do you have grape-flavored candy in this store?"

You stroke your wispy beard that's white with age, "Hm, yes, possibly. All the candy is on the check-out counter so two birds with one stone, yes?"

He gives a small smile back. "Yeah," he agrees. His steps, you notice, are light as a feather, like a ghost. It's probably because he's such a skinny little thing, you think.

You settle back behind the counter and open a drawer. Candy wrappers colored with the rainbow and swirly lollipops are scattered around. "It might be hard to find a specific flavor," you announce. "But I'm sure it won't be too difficult."

"Thank you," Tsunayoshi says in relief as he picks out a purple-wrapped candy. "Lambo throws fits if he doesn't get his favorite candy, especially for his own birthday," he adds. The boy's eyes soften as they stare off into the middle of nowhere. "But he's still the best Guardian anyone can ask for."

"Sounds like you have a good family, eh?"

The boy looks startled, and then grins. "I do."

And then he walks out (after paying, of course) and all you can think of is that once upon a time, that lad was you, young and thought he could take on the world and rise to the top with friends on either side.

...Maybe this one could.

* * *

 **A/N: didn't really like the ending, but what can you do? nothing, especially when your brain refuses to work.**


End file.
